Your Touch (I Can't Get Enough)
by PhoebeSnow
Summary: Steve and Nat grow closer through touch.


"Stars and stripes!"

Natasha stopped mid-walk on her way to the kitchen and frowned. What in the world was that? Once she turned the corner and saw Steve standing by the counter, fiddling with the new espresso machine Tony bought for the team, she smirked. Of course. "My, what colourful language, you use, Steve. Makes sense that you'd throw a little patriotism in your swearing."

Steve gave her an annoyed glance and grunted, slamming his hands on the countertop. "Natasha, please help me. I don't know how to work with this thing. Old fashioned coffee was much easier to make."

"True, but there was less variety back then." She walked over to where he stood and pursed her lips. "I guess I could lend a hand, though. I'd hate it if you broke this machine because you underestimated your strength or something."

 _"Natasha..."_

"Alright. I'm going to show you how to use this thing, so you'll know what to do when you want to make yourself a cup. Watch me closely."

She showed him the way to make a cup of espresso, talking him through the whole thing as she did it. Steve was a fast learner, though, and he decided to follow her and make another cup the way she previously demonstrated for him. It came out perfect.

"Thanks, Natasha. I appreciate it." Some hair fell in front of his eyes as he smiled down at her.

Natasha's heart warmed at the sight. Steve had this happy and proud look on his face, the kind that was akin to a child excited that they learned something new and interesting. It was undeniably cute. "Anytime." She noticed the hair hanging down in his face and, on impulse, she reached up and pushed her fingers through it slowly. "Hm, floppy."

Steve's mouth opened and he let out a small surprised gasp as she ran her fingers through his hair. Natasha awkwardly pulled back, realising that she had invaded his private space without asking. "Uh, I have to be somewhere. See you later." Quickly, she made her exit while his own goodbye was barely above a whisper.

His reaction had certainly been interesting. Something told Natasha that he wasn't used to being touched like that. Maybe he'd let her do that again in a more relaxed setting.

* * *

It turns out that he did.

Natasha hummed lightly to herself as she sat on the couch and wove her fingers through Steve's blond hair. It was so floppy and cute as she had a habit of telling him and she couldn't resist the urge to touch it again. The perfect opportunity arose when she spied Steve sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Surprisingly, he said that he didn't mind her messing with his hair and immediately scooted down the couch so she could sit next to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, Steve was half leaning against Natasha's front with her fingers massaging his head gently. There was a profound intimacy in the closeness and position of their bodies, but she actually _liked_ it. Hell, it was almost erotic.

For someone who was used to keeping people at an arm's length and using them for what she needed, Natasha understood how important it was that she felt so comfortable with Steve in her lap and her fingers in his hair. More so, it made her happy to know that he was okay with her doing it.

"Are you sure you won't let me cut it? It's gotten so floppy and I happen to do a great job of cutting hair."

"Thanks, Natasha, but I'm fine."

"I'm telling you, Steve. I could really make you look good..."

"Stars and stripes! Natasha!" He admonished and half turned to give her an annoyed glare.

"You have **got** to stop saying that. It's so corny. What?" She blinked innocently as she continued to idly play with his golden locks.

"Stop distracting me!" He shook his head a little, but she kept her hands on his on his head anyway.

"Oh, come _on_. You've seen Twister more than five times."

"Well, I still like to watch it without interruption."

"If that's the truth, you'd best not be a part of our group movie nights."

"What are you talking about?"

"Two days ago, Tony texted me yesterday and said that we should start having team nights where we watch a movie together or play a board game. You know, to help us all get to know each other better and bond more."

"That's a great idea."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, back during the war, whenever me and the Howling Commandos had to go out and fight, we'd come up with silly ways to keep ourselves occupied. At night before bed, we played charades, one lie, two truths, you know, a lot of guessing games to learn about each other. It was casual and a good team building exercise."

"Oh, I never knew that...of course, we have more games to choose from now. Board games, for instance, like Life, Monopoly, Pictionary, Uno, and we still have bingo, which is perfect for an old man like you."

Steve rolled his eyes. "For your information, I hate bingo."

"My, how scandalous."

"Why did you say I might not want to come to movie nights?"

"Well, because Clint and Tony have a bad habit of talking or yelling at characters when they do stupid things and it'd probably drive you crazy."

"Mm, not really. It'd take a lot to do that. If they distract from the movie too much, I'll just sketch something."

"You can draw when there's a lot of noise?"

"Yeah. I learned to do that back in the forties. It wasn't exactly quiet in the apartment where I lived, but after a while, I was eventually able to channel out other sounds to concentrate on what I was sketching."

Natasha stopped playing with his hair and thought for a moment. Then a smile slowly curved on her lips and she moved so Steve could see her face. "Does that you'd be open to drawing me like one of your French girls?"

Steve furrowed his brow. "What does that mean?"

"Well, let's just finish Twister and then I'll show you where that line comes from."

"It's from a movie?"

"Mmhm."

Before Steve could respond, Clint walked into the living room, whistling and stopped when he saw Steve and Natasha on the couch.

"Hey, Clint," Natasha said and waved and Steve repeated her greeting.

"Hello..." Clint stared at them for a moment, and blinked several times, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him or not.

Steve sat very close to Natasha - practically in her lap! - with his head resting on her shoulder and her hands were playing around in his hair. It was the last thing Clint ever expected to see in the living room or between two people so different, but maybe this was something he hadn't noticed in their friendship.

The whole thing was very intimate and domestic, and Clint couldn't resist commenting on it. The archer smirked and walked back where he came from, pausing to call out, "You know, you guys should find another place to have your little foreplay. This is a common area, after all."

Steve blushed a deep scarlet and parted his lips, but nothing came out. Natasha glanced at him, but he wouldn't look at her and she growled in frustration. "Clint Barton, I am gonna kick your ass for that!" She jumped from the couch, climbed over it and ran after her best friend, who had already started laughing as he ran down the hall to the nearest elevator.

 _Thanks for ruining the moment, Clint_ , Steve thought in annoyance.

* * *

Steve covered his face with his hand as he glanced over at his partner, who was currently drilling into a bar patron a few feet away from where he stood. Well, it was time to go. He pulled out a few bills from his pocket, sliding them to the bartender across the counter. "Thanks. I think it's best that we go before this commotion gets worse and you end up having trouble on your hands."

"No problem, Cap. You both have a nice night," the man chuckled.

"You too," Steve replied with a nod and made his way over to Natasha, who was still in an argument with the bar bum from before. The man had been saying some very unsavoury things about Steve and Natasha being a part of the group who "crippled" New York and not giving a damn about it.

It had been very unsettling and a couple of people came to their defence including the bartender out of respect for the fact that it weren't for the Avengers, New York would be destroyed.

The support eased the slight feelings of guilt that poked at Steve when he heard the man's words. Nevertheless, he decided that it'd be best if he and Natasha left as soon as possible.

"Natasha, come on. Let's go."

"What?" The redhead turned, but stumbled into Steve and he had to steady her so she wouldn't fall. "I'm putting this creep in his place and you want to leave? Just let me finish and I'll be out." She started to turn back to the other man, but Steve grabbed her by the arm.

"Forget about it. You're bombed, Nat. I'm getting you home if I have to carry you there."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Steve gave her that annoying and resilient Captain America glare that said he wasn't going to budge on this.

Natasha tried to keep her eyes open as long as his so she could glare back, but her lids kept lowering because she needed sleep. Finally, she sighed and raised her hands in surrender. "Fine."

"Good." Steve's hand slid down to her elbow in a supporting and protective gesture as he ushered her towards the door.

Then, right before they went outside, the jerk behind them yelled, "Yeah, take that crazy broad outta here, ya sorry excuse for a superhero. and don't bring her back!"

"I've heard enough from you, Mack! You don't insult the man who helped save New York! Get out of my bar and don't even think about coming back!" The bartender growled and a bouncer began to direct the troublemaker towards the door.

"What did you say?!" Natasha's eyes widened in rage and she shrieked, turning around, anger radiating from her like perfume. The man looked terrified and reeled backwards to move away from her. Steve knew that she would have sent the guy - jerk as he was - into the hospital, and the Avengers didn't need any more negative light shone on them right now.

So he quickly reached out, grabbed her by the arms and tugged her to the door. Natasha growled and tried to pull away from him, kicking her legs out this way and that, but to no avail. Steve's hold was unbreakable. Before they got completely out of the door, Natasha bellowed in a loud voice, "You can say what you want about him, but Steven Grant Rogers is an American hero and you can suck his patriotic dick!"

A surprised round of laughter and applause came from the bar as they left and Steve found himself fighting off a smile with his arms full of a lovely and angry Russian woman. "Stars and stripes, Nat. Was that really neccessary?" They walked to his motorcycle and helped her onto it.

Once Natasha was seated, she scowled. "Yes. You should have let me kick his ass."

"And then it would have ended up all over the newspapers, which is not the kind of coverage the media needs on us." He sat on the front and used his foot to push the kickstand up. "It may have been a year since the battle of New York, but a lot of people are still smarting from the damage it caused, Natasha. It's not going to go away just yet."

She sighed as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his back. "I know, I know. They're looking for someone to blame and we're an easy target. Well, it doesn't mean that I have to like it." She ran a hand through his hair briefly and sighed again before closing her eyes and resting her head on his spine.

"You're not alone." Steve rubbed her knuckles assuringly and started the engine, moving into the street to drive towards the tower.

* * *

Several hours later, Natasha lie in her bed and stared up at the ceiling. For some reason, she couldn't sleep, and that was odd since she nearly passed out on the motorcycle home. The only thing that kept her conscious had been the rumbling seat she sat on and Steve's warm hand covering hers.

Her headache hadn't been too bad though, because Steve immediately brewed a pot of coffee as soon as they got back and made her drink two cups. "I don't want you waking up with a hell of a migraine, so drink."

"Yes, _dad_ ," she had said with an eye roll, but she drank the coffee down anyway. Natasha hated getting headaches herself and hangovers were the worst kind.

The redhead glanced at her clock. It was two thirty-six. Damn. She hadn't gotten that much sleep tonight. Her mind had been so active because of a certain fellow Avenger.

Steve had been in her thoughts for a while now, more than usual. Natasha recalled how at home she felt whenever he was around, how much fun they had together the past year. Sure, being SHIELD agents and Avengers wasn't the makings of a cushy life, but she and Steve always found good ways to decompress and enjoy life.

He really had become her partner. Natasha couldn't remember the last time they'd been apart for more than a few days. It was like he were an extension of her and she never liked to be away from him for too long. Was this dependency or something stemming from an even greater need?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cry from across the hall. Natasha sat up at once, knowing all too well whose voice it belonged to.

Steve.

Without hesitation, Natasha leapt out of bed and made a beeline for her partner's room. When she opened the door, she heard his cries even louder than before and winced as she saw him twisting left and right, moaning in his sleep. Standing at the front of his bed, she shook him hard to wake him from his dreaming. "Steve, Steve, wake up. It's alright. You're safe."

The soldier grunted sharply and curled up inside himself for a moment, then he gradually started to breathe more evenly, his bodily movements less erratic. For a moment, he stilled, then turned just a little bit and opened his eyes to look up at her. "Nat?"

She smiled and rubbed his arm gently. "Hey, Steve."

"I had a...a nightmare."

"I heard. That's why I'm here."

There was something desperate in his eyes and he covered her hand with his. "I can't lose you, Nat."

That surprised her and she raised her eyebrows at such a confession. "I...I don't know what you dreamed about, but you don't have to worry, Steve. I don't plan on going anywhere." She brushed her fingers against his hair which stuck up in different directions.

"Do you promise?"

Her lips parted as she watched him carefully. That nightmare clearly had something to do with her and had rattled him hard. Nodding, she squeezed his hand to reassure him. "Yeah. I'm not leaving you."

Steve leaned back and sighed softly, closing his eyes as he did. Natasha bit her lip and glanced towards the door. She didn't want to leave, but at the same time, she didn't want to stay unless she was welcome.

Before Natasha could say anything, Steve pulled her down to his level so they were eye to eye, faces merely inches away. "Will you stay with me?" His voice was quiet and breathy when he said it which made Natasha wonder if he were afraid she'd refuse.

Well, there was no way she was going to do that. The redhead smiled again and nodded. "I hoped you would ask me."

He returned her smile and scooted across the bed so she could get in.

After she was settled in beside him, she wrapped her arms around him instinctually, like this was something they always did. He rested his head on her chest and she let out a chuckle. "You really have a strange way of seducing women to get into your bed, Steve."

"That wasn't my intention, Nat. I just...feel better around you. Being with you makes me feel at home." He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the sleepiness return to his body.

Natasha felt herself feel incredibly at ease when he said that. So she hadn't been alone in her feelings, but just how deep did his go for her? She ran her fingers through his hair again, wondering if the attraction she felt towards him was mutual.

"You only like me for my hair," Steve said playfully with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"Not true at all. I do like your floppy hair, but mostly, I just like _you_." She pressed a kiss to his brow and stroked his cheek with her other hand.

A look of relief crossed his face and made her even more glad that she told him how she felt about him. "Good, because I feel the same." He nuzzled his cheek into her hand and her heart gave a little jolt of excitement. "So I guess all of this is just foreplay?"

Natasha yawned and entwined her fingers with his own. "Damn right. Now, go to sleep so we can cuddle some more."

Steve kissed her knuckles, then placed his hand on her stomach. "Sounds like a plan to me. Maybe we should do this more often."

"I agree," came her raspy answer as sleep claimed her.

Neither would have guessed that falling asleep together would become a tradition between them through the following years. Yet, it was merely a precursor to the day when Steve and Natasha would exchange I dos and from then on, wake up every morning and go to bed every night with the fresh memory of their spouse's face on their mind.


End file.
